


Into the Light

by waitingforaflame



Series: Becoming Unbroken [1]
Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Catra is chipped, Catra suffers, F/F, Gen, Heavy - Freeform, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, Potentially triggering, Trauma, Yes this is another Catra suffers at the hands of Horde Prime fics, it's dark, very dark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:28:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24366583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waitingforaflame/pseuds/waitingforaflame
Summary: “You will not break me,” Catra snarls, and she means it with every fiber of her being.Horde Prime’s voice chides her from behind. “My intention was never to break you, little sister.” He grabs something off the tray, something that Catra can’t identify. “I only wish to heal you.”--Catra suffers at the hands of Horde Prime.
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Series: Becoming Unbroken [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1759273
Comments: 35
Kudos: 268





	Into the Light

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, this idea has been done a thousand times before. No, I don't care. 
> 
> This is far too long and far too heavy, but it turned out pretty decently. Will be part of a series of works, and I promise, Catra will be in a good place soon.

Every one of Catra’s muscles burns with pain, but adrenaline keeps her from fully experiencing the wrath. 

Two clones escort her to Prime’s throne room, her hands bound behind her back. It’s not an easy trip. She stumbles often, her legs giving out from exertion. The clones don’t care. Every time she falls, they drag her back up again, pressing forward with their task. Her arms burn from being held in such a stiff position, but the clones don’t seem to care, as they hold them firmly in place. 

Catra’s instincts are raging at her. She should be fighting until she really has nothing left to give. At the very least, she should be trying to get out of this situation, just like she always does. Her mind, however, knows better. Fighting is futile at this point; she knows what’s coming for her. 

Oddly enough, she doesn’t care. Despite Catra’s defeat in her fight against the clones, she still tastes victory. Adora is safe. She has Glimmer now, and that archer boy whose name she can’t quite remember, and thus, Adora will be fine. 

They reach the throne room. Save for the sound of their footsteps on the pristine floor, the room is silent. Every sound, from her ragged breathing to the blood pounding in her ears, is amplified. The clones drop her in front of Horde Prime, and Catra doesn’t even need to lift her eyes from the floor; she can  _ feel _ Horde Prime watching her every move. Even though she wants nothing more than to run as far as her legs can carry her, she holds herself steady and keeps her face blank.

Horde Prime sticks his boot under her chin, forcing her to look at him. If it were Hordak, Catra was sure he would be screaming, yelling, attacking her. But Horde Prime sits still and merely looks disappointed. “The Etherian ship has changed course,” he begins, getting to his feet. “But your treachery will not save them.” 

“ _ Prime casts out all shadows. Prime casts out all shadows _ .”

She does her best to block out the clones’ malicious droning. Instead, Catra focuses on Prime, whose rage is cool, but collected. “There is no darkness that my light cannot pierce,” he continues. “No distance that my hand cannot reach.” As his tempo rises, so does the clones’ chanting. Her efforts of drowning them out aren’t enough, and she finds herself turning to stare them all down. 

“They will not be able to hide from me forever,” Horde Prime announces, more to the clones than to Catra. When the chanting stops, he turns his attention back to the feline. “You were beloved in my sight and this is how you repay me.”

Catra stares him down, then bursts into a laughter so rough it stings her injuries. She doesn’t know what it feels like to be beloved in anyone’s sight, but it’s certainly not this. Her reaction surprises Horde Prime, but he doesn’t interrupt. “What did you expect?” she asks, all too gleefully. “After all, us Etherians are so very emotional.” It feels good to use his words against him. 

She focuses on Horde Prime, narrowing her eyes. “It doesn’t matter what you do to me,” she says, because it doesn’t. So long as Adora is safe, he can do anything he wants to her. “Glimmer is gone. And you will  _ never _ get your hands on Adora.” 

At this point in the conversation, Hordak would have barked orders to lock her up, or place her on the next transport to Beast Island. Horde Prime, however, remains still. “Oh, my child, you’re wrong. Everyone has a place in my empire.” 

Horde Prime’s grabs her chin, his metal talon grating right against her mask. The action is enough to diminish some of Catra’s bravado; this gesture has never done any good for her. He smirks, almost as if he can sense the uncertainty coursing through her veins. “You will be of use to me yet.”

Before she can ask what that even means, Horde Prime lets go of her chin and glances at his clones. “Please escort our dear little sister to cell number 6.” A slow grin stretches across his pale face, and Prime reaches forward to smooth down her rumpled hair. Catra jerks back with a hiss, but she doesn’t get far. The clones yank her back to her knees and hold her in place. 

Her reaction bears no effect on Horde Prime. He simply sits back on his throne, smiling to himself. “So wild,” he muses. “It is no wonder your Adora does not want you.”

Catra chokes on a bitter laugh. Those words are meant to break her, but she’s been broken long ago by a villain of a different name. “You think that’ll work on me?” she spits out. “Try telling me something I don’t know.”

Horde Prime doesn’t respond. He just sits there, watching her. After a few long, terse minutes, he snaps his fingers and the clones yank her to her feet. “We will meet again, little sister.” He crosses his legs again, giving her one long glance-over. 

The look he gives her sends a chill down Catra’s spine as the clones lead her away. Any bravado, any victory she previously felt slowly begins to dissipate. Her mind flashes to the green pool, and Hordak’s screams, and she grits her teeth to keep her jaw from shaking. It’s fine. She can take pain. So long as Adora is safe, and far away from him, she’ll be okay. 

She’s just collateral, after all. 

* * *

Cell number 6 is nothing special, but it makes Glimmer’s cell seem like a palace. There’s no bed in it, nor any niceties. Just a white room with a green forcefield, forever emitting a threatening hum. The clones deposit Catra there and leave without giving her a glance. Catra prefers it that way. The less she has to look at those damn clones, the better. 

Alone with her thoughts, Catra finally begins to relax. She pushes herself against a wall and pulls her knees to her chest, tail curled around her. As much as she tells herself she isn’t scared, she can feel her ears hanging low on her head. She’s been scared before, but not like this. 

With Hordak and Shadow Weaver, she more or less knows what kind of trouble she can get into. Growing up in the Horde has left her with a thick skin— not as thick as she’d like, but thicker than most. She can prepare for those types of consequences at a moment’s notice. 

It’s different here. Horde Prime is foreign to her, as are his methods. From her few interactions with him, it’s clear that he values little, and fears even less. Unlike his brother, Horde Prime is not someone who should be trifled with. 

Yet here she is. If she thinks about it, the matter becomes almost funny. Here is the most terrifying villain Catra’s ever had to face, and what does she do? She serves him the ultimate betrayal. If it were someone, anyone else, she would have laughed. 

With a sinking pit in her stomach, she realizes that it isn’t anyone else. It’s her. Now she’s left to deal with the fallout. Catra rests her chin atop her knees, letting out a low breath. She’s certain he’ll kill her, if only to use as an example. At the very least, she’ll be electrocuted and wiped, just like he did Hordak. It’s not an ideal circumstance, but she tells herself she accepts it. 

Seeking greener pastures, her mind wanders to Adora. 

_ I’m sorry. For everything. _

Catra meant it, too. Maybe that was the saddest part of it all. What she wouldn’t give to see her one last time before Horde Prime ends her. She wants to see her blue eyes again, her smile. That dumb hair poof. 

Of course, these are only fantasies. She’d made her peace with speaking to Adora one last time; she’ll never see her again. Adora won’t get anywhere near the ship, Catra’s done everything in her power to ensure that happens. For now, though, she lets herself indulge in wonder. 

If she could talk with her again, she’d give her a real apology. She’d apologize to everyone she’s ever harmed. Glimmer. Scorpia. Bow— of course, now she remembers his name. What a stupid name to forget in the first place. 

Why had she sounded so concerned? Catra mulls this over to pass the time, scratching at the floor when her hands become restless. Adora doesn’t care about her. She hates her. By activating the portal, Catra had destroyed things between them. And yet, a part of her dares to hope that maybe, just maybe, there’s a chance. The smallest chance that by saving Glimmer, Catra had found a way to redeem herself in Adora’s eyes. She laughs at herself as soon as she thinks it. It’s a ridiculous thought; Adora will never forgive her for the things she’s done.

The longer she waits for her atonement, the worse she feels. Her ears are plastered to the side of her head, and her hands shake so hard she can’t hold them still if she tries. What’s taking them so long? If they’re going to kill her, there’s no better time. She’s weak, and injured, and will put up little resistance. 

Still, no one arrives at her door, and the time passes. Catra pounds at the green forcefield, she screams. No one hears her. No one acknowledges her. Just like every other corner of the universe, no one cares about her. 

When it’s clear that her attempts are useless, Catra collapses to the floor and clutches at her hair. Maybe this is how he intends to kill her. Wait her out, starve her slowly. Let her thoughts ultimately be the end of her. 

The thought chills her to her core. She never thought she’d die alone.

* * *

It feels like days have gone by before the clones finally come for her. 

Granted, she has no way of knowing how long she’s been in the cell. The harsh white lines bear down on her at all hours of the day, and though sleep is the farthest thing from her mind, she’s frustrated at being robbed of the choice. Her body is wracked with exhaustion and begs her for rest, but between the growling in her stomach, the unsettling cell, and her constant tremors, she refuses to indulge.

When the green door opens, Catra almost believes she’s seeing things. Two clones enter the room. Neither of them hold a meal for her, and her stomach growls pitifully at the realization. They walk towards her, feet clanging against the cold metal floor, and she doesn’t even have the energy to scoot backwards. She flinches when cold hands wrap around her arms and unceremoniously drag her out, not even sparing her the dignity of letting her walk. 

_ It’s okay _ , she tells herself, trying to quell the fear that bubbles deep inside of her. It doesn’t matter what they do to you. Adora is safe now. She repeats the words like a mantra as the clones drag her through the ship, almost as if willing herself to believe it. 

Despite it all, Catra can’t deny that she’s afraid. Her tail bristles, and there’s a chill that hasn’t left since her last conversation with Horde Prime. 

“Where are you taking me?” she asks, hating how ragged and pathetic her voice sounds. 

Neither clone answers. 

Left to her own imagination, Catra reluctantly lets her eyes close. She knows she shouldn’t. If she were herself, she’d be taking notes of her surroundings and figuring out how to best disable the clones and escape. But she’s tired. All she wants is a few moments of peace without her teeth chattering or her insides in knots. If Horde Prime plans to kill her, a few minutes of rest won’t change anything. 

Catra returns to her senses when she hears the familiar chime of a door being opened. Her body resents her, begs her to continue on the path to sleep, but all thoughts of rest are put on hold as she takes in the room. It’s empty, save for a chair. 

She barely has a moment to try to understand when she’s shoved into the chair. The hard surface digs into her skin, and she comes to the slow realization that nothing on this ship seems to be designed for comfort. 

The door opens again and another clone enters, carrying a tray. His eyes bore white pupils, and he smiles when he looks at her. “Catra,” he greets with Horde Prime’s slithering voice. She cringes, but as much as she wants to look away, she forces herself to keep looking right at him. She’s not surprised that he isn’t here in person; it makes complete sense that her punishment isn’t worthy of his presence.

“No games,” she rasps, doing everything in her power to keep her voice from wavering. “Just kill me and get it over with.”

“Kill you?” The clone cocks his head to the side and hands the tray off. He closes the distance between him and Catra, trailing his finger across her jaw. “No, little sister. I have other plans for you.”

Catra grits her teeth and yanks her face away from his touch. “Not interested. I won’t help you.” 

The clone chuckles, a cold, calculated sound that does nothing but intensify Catra’s nerves. “Such fire,” he notes, circling around her. “It must be tamed.” 

“What are you going to do to me?” 

For the second time, she receives no answer. Instead, the clone pulls off her mask in one swift motion. “What a paltry thing,” he muses, examining it in his palms. Catra winces when he drops it at her feet. “Dispose of it with the rest.” 

The rest?

It’s on the tip of her tongue to ask what he means, but she stops herself. She doesn’t feel like receiving silence for a third time. 

“Should we restrain her, Lord Prime?” asks the clone holding the tray. 

The clone in front of Catra glances at her before shaking his head. “There’s no need for that.” He smirks. “There’s nothing for her to fight. Catra made her choice. Isn’t that right, little sister?”

_ You made your choice. Now live with it.  _

Catra swallows, holding back the whimper that rises in her throat. Adora is right. She made a choice to protect her. Now she had to live with the consequences, no matter how much pain they caused her. 

When she offers no response, the clone spasms and jerks backwards in an unnatural bend. With Horde Prime’s control gone, the clone’s green eyes return, and he nods to the clone not holding the tray. In response, the second clone stands beside her, close enough to intervene in case she decides to try anything. 

“It would be in your best interest not to move,” he warns, emphasizing his point. 

Catra’s eyes widen. From her peripheral, she sees the first clone pick up an item off the tray. It glints in the glaring brightness of the room, but the clone to her side blocks Catra from getting a better look. She can only imagine what kind of torture lies in store for her, and her mind goes ballistic with the possibilities.

A hand grabs a strand of her hair and pulls it taught, so she clamps her jaw in preparation. She tells herself she won’t scream, no matter how much it hurts. Catra won’t give Horde Prime, nor his clones, the satisfaction. 

However, the pain never comes. 

The room fills with the sound of loud, methodical snipping. Her ears twitch in discomfort. She doesn’t understand what they’re doing— where is that sound coming from? Something lands at her feet. When she glances down, she realizes it’s her hair. 

She refuses to cry, and bites her lip to keep from reacting at all. It’s just hair. It doesn’t matter, not really. Not when Adora is safe and far,  _ far _ away from here. 

Catra repeats it to herself, over and over, but it’s drowned out by the careless snipping. Her hair continues to drop on the floor, gathering in a steady pile. Catra pokes it with her foot, but it only makes the nightmare all the more real. 

There’s a breeze on her neck. She can’t feel her hair on her back anymore, and that scares her. With her mask gone and her hair shorn, what does she have to hide behind? As the minutes go by, she feels herself growing smaller in the chair. Catra is sure that this punishment bears little purpose other than humiliating her., and to her dismay, it’s working. 

By the time the clone steps away, Catra is trembling. The room spins beyond her control, but she balls her fists anyway and forces herself to focus. 

A disjointed crack signifies that Horde Prime has returned. Catra keeps her face still, betraying no emotion, but it’s for nothing. He doesn’t face her again. 

“I believe this suits you much better,” the clone says with Horde Prime’s voice, trailing a cold finger down her neck. “Much more ideal for my plans.”

“You will not break me,” Catra snarls, and she means it with every fiber of her being. 

Horde Prime’s voice chides her from behind. “My intention was never to break you, little sister.” He grabs something off the tray, something that Catra can’t identify. “I only wish to heal you.”

If she had anything left in her, she would have laughed. 

“Unfortunate as your betrayal is, it did come at a convenient time,” the voice continues. “I do hope my prototype won’t cause you too much suffering.” 

An object is placed on her neck. Despite her efforts to prepare for pain, Catra hisses as the device leeches into her and sends white-hot flash down her spine. She jumps backwards, hissing wildly and clawing at the device on her neck, but the clones are quick to restrain her. 

“All beings must suffer to become pure,” they remind her, and for the first time, she understands. 

The pain leaves Catra disoriented. Images that aren’t hers start flashing in her mind, and no matter how hard she struggles, she’s unable to send them away. She doesn’t notice when the clones cart her out of the room, nor when they lead her to the purification pool. 

When she opens her eyes again, she’s there, standing at the edge of the green liquid. Horde’s small army of clones circle the pool, chanting, watching her every move. Horde Prime stands at the center, arms open, a smile on his face. The moment Catra realizes where she is she scrambles to leave, but the chip on her neck sends a shock throughout her system and renders her immobile. 

Horde Prime starts speaking, but the blood is pounding too hard in her ears for her to register the words. Too many thoughts are in her head, and she swears the malicious chanting grows louder by the second. As much as Catra wants to play brave and hold her head high, she’s terrified. Horde Prime’s screams as the pool shocked him are still etched into her head, and though a part of her knew this would be her fate, she’s not ready to face it. 

“Step forward, dear sister. It is time you are free of your pain,” Horde Prime announces. Catra’s legs move of their own accord, and she’s too weak to fight them. 

In the center of the pool, for a single moment, there is peace. 

And then the electric current begins, and Catra wails in pain. Shadow Weaver’s blows bear no comparison to the torture of the green pool. She reaches out, hoping someone, anyone would make it stop, but the clones just continue to chant, and stare. 

Catra feels herself slipping. Within moments, everything goes black. 

* * *

“Why did you do it?”

Adora’s voice lulls Catra out of her trance. The feline slowly blinks her eyes open, finding Adora, her Adora, above her, cradling her head in her hands. Catra whimpers at the touch, and she wishes she had the strength to hold her back. 

“I did it for you,” she says, her voice rife with anguish. “You weren’t supposed to come back for me.” 

“Of course I came back for you!” Adora has tears in her eyes, and they trickle down on Catra’s cheeks as she presses their foreheads together. “I’m not leaving you behind again. Not ever.”

Catra chokes on a sob. It’s all she ever wanted to hear. “You promise?” she croaks. 

Adora responds, but no sound comes out of her mouth. The hands holding her start to fade, and Catra fights to keep them with her but it’s no use. Adora disappears before her very eyes, and Catra is left alone in the void. 

“How interesting.” She turns to the voice, only to find Horde Prime in the darkness with her. “It would seem that your Adora means quite a bit to you.” 

She shakes her head, closing her eyes and trying to will herself awake. This is a nightmare. Just a nightmare, and Horde Prime will be gone the moment she wakes up. She’ll be alone, in her cell, waiting for whatever sick games he has in store for her. 

It doesn’t work. Catra trembles and gasps at her hair, but quickly yanks her hands away when she feels the shorn strands. It isn’t a nightmare. This is real. 

“You aren’t here,” she stammers once she’s opened her eyes. “You can’t be.”

“Yet here I am,” he answers plainly. Horde Prime steps closer to her, and taps the chip in her neck. “I have freed you, little sister.”

“No,” Catra gasps, immediately backing away. “You aren’t real. You aren’t in my head.” 

Any distance she’s placed between them, Horde Prime closes in an instant. He grabs her chin, but unlike Adora, it isn’t delicate. There’s no love there, only control. “Would you like to see?” 

He turns her head to the side where a vision appears. She thinks it's her cell at first, but there’s a barrack, so it can’t be. Her cell had been empty. There’s a murmur of voices in the air. 

_ Alpha Squadron set for departure to Erelandia.  _

_ Go in Horde Prime’s will, Brothers.  _

Catra grasps at her ears. The voices aren’t just in what he’s showing her. They’re in her head. “I don’t understand,” she says, looking to Horde Prime for an explanation. 

“You will.”

She keeps watching. The bunk moves out of view. Instead, a mirror appears, nearing closer. When the reflection appears, Catra’s eyes bulge in horror. It’s her. No longer in her own clothes, she’s fitted in a white uniform. Her hair is cropped, slicked back, allowing green eyes to take center stage. 

“No,” she hisses, lashing out and bringing out her claws, swiping at Prime. He dodges all too easily. 

“Are you not satisfied, little sister? I have healed you.”

“Put me back,” she insists. “I am not yours to control.”

He brings his hand to the back of her head, rendering her immobile. “But you are. I have freed you from your pain, your rage. For that, you should be grateful.” 

With an angry cry, Catra shoves him away and begins to run. She has to get out of here. There has to be a way, some way, to wake up. If she was under his control, who knows what he’d use her for. 

The poisonous chuckle overpowers her head and sends her crashing to the ground. Still, Catra struggles to her knees and pushes forward. She’ll crawl her way out if she has to. Flashes of the cell appear in her mind. The harder she fights, the clearer it gets. 

“Why do you struggle so hard, little sister?” The image disappears, and she’s inside the void again. Voices fill her head, all at once, and it’s hard to concentrate on anything. “Do you wish to feel pain again? To experience betrayal?” 

Catra’s memories flash before her eyes in rapid succession. Adora, leaving her, over and over again. Shadow Weaver, abandoning her and leaving her to face Hordak’s punishment without a care. Attacking Entrapta. The portal. Double Trouble. Hordak. The old wounds in her chest slowly start to unravel, and with them Catra begins to feel the emotions she’s worked so hard to bury. 

“You would so willingly protect the girl that broke your heart?”

Catra fights past the pain, taking a shaky breath before glaring at Horde Prime. “She’s my friend. I’ll do anything to protect her from you.”

“Such brave words.” Horde Prime tilts his head to the side. “But bravery cannot distract from the truth. You said so yourself, your Adora is not your friend. Whatever she may mean to you, it is clear she does not feel the same.” 

Adora appears in front of her, blue eyes are clouded with hate. “I don’t want you, Catra,” she states, and the words pierce Catra like a sword to the chest. “You made your choice.”

“No,” she whimpers, softer this time. “Adora, please. I—” 

“You what?” Adora laughs, her face twisted with ugly hatred. “Did you really think it would be that easy? That I’ll forgive you? You hurt people, Catra. The only person you deserve is yourself.” 

She starts to walk away, and Catra follows her, struggling to keep up. She takes her hand, holding it tightly in her own, afraid she’ll let go. “Please… Stay.” 

Adora turns around, but her face changes from anger to fear. She stumbles, and Catra quickly catches her as they both come down to the ground. Something’s wrong. “Adora?” Her voice is shaking. Every part of her is shaking. 

“Why’d you do it?” Adora asks, tears pooling in her eyes. What is she talking about? The portal? Catra’s hands are wet, and when she sees the blood on Adora’s shirt she chokes on a sob and pulls her closer. 

“ _ No _ ,” she repeats, because it’s all she can think of to say. 

“Catra, why?”

“You’re okay. Just stay with me, I’ll get you help. I can fix this.” 

Adora shakes her head, her lip quivering. Her skin grows pale, and her blue eyes begin to turn gray. “I loved you,” she says. 

Catra holds her tighter, burying her face in her neck. She’s only ever imagined that Adora would say those words, but not like this. Never like this. “Stay with me,” she begs into her hair, clutching her with a desperation she didn’t think she had left. “Please, stay.”

She doesn’t stay. Adora grows slack in her arms, and whatever resolve is left in Catra breaks completely. 

The apparition disappears and Catra crumples on the floor, tears streaming down her face. A guttural, choking sound echoes throughout the void. When the ringing dims from her ears, she realizes that it’s coming from her. Sobs escape her throat faster than she can keep them in, and they offer no relief. 

For so long, she’s buried these memories, the pain she so desperately avoids feeling. All at once, it consumes her. Breaks her. Catra curls up on the ground, clutching at her arms and digging her nails into her skin. She wants the ache to stop, for the memories to go away and close the hollow roar in her chest, but it remains. The physical pain offers no relief for her emotional wounds. Not at this point. 

Not when all she can see is Adora’s blood on her hands, her blue eyes turned gray and staring at nothing.

Horde Prime approaches her again, and this time she can’t hold back from whimpering. “So much pain, little sister.” The chip at her neck sizzles with electricity, begging to take full control. “Do you wish for freedom?”

Far away, she hears a voice in the back of her head, screaming at her to keep fighting. But she can’t. She’s so tired, and the pain is too much for her to bear. 

She really is useless.

Adora appears again, as a little girl, resting her hand on her shoulder. “I promise,” she says with an innocent smile. Catra rests her hand on top of hers, tears running down her face. She has to protect her. She promised to look out for her. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispers before letting go of her hand. “I’m so sorry.”

As the chip takes control, the memory slips away. Her attempts to hold it are frail, and Adora’s face slips from her mind faster than she would have liked. When it disappears, she lets go completely, and allows everything to fade to black.

She’s free. 

* * *

_ The Etherian ship has entered the premises.  _

Catra feels nothing. There’s a smile on her face.

_ Pilot is alone. Identifies as She-Ra.  _

She-Ra is Horde Prime’s enemy. Horde Prime will bring her into the light. 

_ Little Sister, I request your presence.  _

Catra stands obediently. She leaves her cell, joining two of her brothers. They exchange no pleasantries; those are reserved for Horde Prime. When they arrive at his throne room, she waits at the door. 

“I don’t fight for the First Ones. I fight for my home, for myself, and for my friends.” 

She recognizes that voice. 

“Now for the last time, where is Catra?”

Adora. 

She’s here. 

For the briefest of moments, the chip ceases its control, and Catra sees her. She’s there, standing before Horde Prime, red jacket, ponytail and all.

“Adora?” she calls out shakily. She has to protect her. Horde Prime can’t get his hands on her. She moves to approach her, but as quick as the chip gives her control, it disappears, and Catra is rendered submissive once more. 

“Catra? Where are you?”

She and her brothers step forward, approaching Horde Prime. The girl in the red jacket, the She-Ra, means nothing to her. She broke her heart. Horde Prime has fixed it, and given her peace. 

She-Ra must be brought into the light, just like her. 

Catra removes her hood, and smiles. “Hello, Adora.”


End file.
